Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, storyline's mine.

Apologies for the delay, but the real life caught me :) Besides, I really wanted to get tis one right.

Enjoy, R.

12. Regina Spektor – Bleeding Heart

CHAPTER 11

This Was Edward Cullen

"You can't help but stare at everyone there
It's you versus everyone else
Your outfit's a crime, you feel their cold minds
Placing you under arrest
And you serve your time drinking all night long
Staring at the walls of your jail-like home
Listening to that song, cause it hurts just right
Till everything is gone tonight."

"Never never mind bleeding heart, bleeding heart
Never never mind your bleeding heart
Never never mind bleeding heart, bleeding heart
Never never mind your bleeding heart."

Friday, January 25, 2013

With Rosalie's words lingering in the air, a sudden familiar urge possessed my body. A strong, disturbing tingle arose in my toes, crawling upwards filling all hollow places, making me feel like I might combust from the inside pressure dwelling under my skin now. I could run, just like I had the last time, and never come back. But being helplessly lost in the pool of green I had lusted after for the last week and a half, I didn't move an inch, I only fisted my hands into tight balls, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

Dr. Green-Eyes. Edward; the beautiful, surreal stranger from my dreams.

"He's one of the best in his field," Rosalie continued, sharing Alice's enthusiasm, oblivious to a wordless exchange between the doctor and me.

"Really?" I asked, my voice dripped in sarcasm.

A tense smile occupied his lips now, but his expressive eyes that were – by the way – still locked with mine couldn't hide the tense confusion. I wondered if it was me who made him feel uneasy; I grinned internally at the possibility. Could I really throw him off that easily?

Not that he didn't have the same power over me.

Either she didn't notice the tone of my voice, or ignored it, because her smile widened. "Isn't that right, Edward?" she turned to him for support and the whole table did with her.

Looking away from me, he smiled at her, but the tension from his features didn't dissipate completely. "I'm sure there are others just as good as me."

What was so hard about proclaiming people that they were out of their right minds? I certainly didn't see it as a noteworthy accomplishment.

"Don't be so modest, Ed!" exclaimed Emmett, patting his buddy on the shoulder, wrinkling the white shirt he was wearing, first two buttons opened. His unruly hair was sticking out in every direction once again, and together with his casual attire, he looked even more attractive than in the black slacks I had seen him in the last time. "Seattle is happy to have you back! You've come a long way; there is so much you should be proud of."

Edward nodded. "Well, yes, I am."

I realized my eyes hadn't left him for more than a few seconds, always returning to his face. Out of nowhere, his eyes shot right up at mine again, and I frowned. They had that searching quality to them again, the one that looked like he was looking somewhere far-away, but like he was focused on something specific, very close to him at the same time.

Before I could become hypnotized by his green orbs again, someone grabbed my elbow. "Bella, why don't you get us something to drink?" Alice asked in a sweet tone. I turned to her, and I knew she had picked up on the somewhat hostile atmosphere between Edward and me.

"Sure. I'll be right back," I lied, turning on my toes and disappearing in the thick dancing crowd.

Instead of going towards the bar, I headed outside, eager to catch fresh air. Damnit! What was it about me, clubs and psychiatrists? What was it about Dr. Green-Eyes? Psychiatrist? Really? It was like another slap in the face to my life, another little shove in my back sending me towards the edge of the cliff. Honestly, there wasn't much room for me anymore; I was about to jump. Even preparing for my own death - literally and figuratively - my life couldn't spare me only to make fun of me again.

This was the moment in stories and movies, when the hero, about to give up, would find hope and strength to build their life again – when the things in their life would go right for once. But not for me; this was a different story. I was going to live in misery until the very end, constantly being reminded of what had gone wrong in my life by Dr. Angelic's son.

Edward. Somehow, the green-eyed stranger was not the person I had thought him to be. The surreal experience I'd had with him last week evaporated into the thin air the moment Rosalie revealed who he was. Yes, those green eyes might be the same, but my whole perspective shifted. Now I saw the enemy who had conveniently gotten through my defenses that Wednesday night in the hospital and who – as a result of further inspection - might have seen just how broken I was.

After an assessment of the injuries the patient, Isabella Swan, inflicted upon herself, and the mental health examination she received from Dr. Varner, she is not advised to be discharged from care but instead should be hospitalized in a mental health institution of the legal guardian's choosing. The patient shows symptoms of depression and anxiety disorders combined with a volatile and unstable disposition. This makes her a vulnerable, weak individual, unpredictable and easily shaken by external circumstances. This might result in another suicide attempt, or worse, an attempt to hurt the people around her…

I saw it were the words that bastard had written years ago that wanted to lock me up; the words I had read in the hospital discharge report the day Charlie had taken me home from Seattle. I knew they had made a different agreement – of me being treated in therapy. But the problem was that no one had believed me when I said I hadn't tried to kill myself; that I might have felt sad and yes, depressed, but I was in no way unstable or volatile. I was simply a teenager that had lost her mother and who was being constantly bullied by her father's girlfriend and trying to win his attention and love.

And they, the psychiatrists, tried and tried again to make me look helpless and crazy. They were supposed to help me, but instead they had just scared the shit out of me. And I couldn't let go of those memories.

And now… Edward. I knew he was the same. I already didn't like him for it. And despite how broken I was, I was determined not to let him see just how much.

I took a few deep breaths and reluctantly returned to the club. At the bar I placed my order and even though I had promised myself no alcohol, there was no way I was going to survive this evening without my tequila shots. No way. After the tray with the drinks had been placed in front of me, I paid and carefully made my way back to our box. The group was in the middle of an animated discussion about Edward's job.

"…and what about psychoanalysis, Edward? Does it work?" I caught Alice asking with an unusually keen interest. I put the tray on the table and noticed how the doctor's eyes flashed in my direction only momentarily.

He seemed to ponder her question before answering. "Psychoanalysis is quite controversial. While part of the academic community views psychoanalysis as an effective and to a certain extent a reliable diagnostic method, the other – more dominant – part of academic circles consider Freud's theories to not be supported – by both quantitative and experimental research. Naturally, there are certified practitioners – psychoanalysts - but you won't find a psychiatrist who openly practices Freudian techniques as the only diagnostic tool-"

"Why not?" Alice cut him off impatiently.

"Well, the debate about psychoanalysis is too divisive for a trained professional to rely merely on the questions and answers that the specialist interprets according to their own understanding. However, there are case studies that prove the technique to be useful and functional. I, personally, have had only positive experiences with it."

Whoa. He was obsessed. And he looked like he needed to loosen up a bit; he seemed a bit on edge tonight.

"So," Alice started again. "Do you practice psychoanalysis?"

"Not officially. I don't have any certification to call myself a psychoanalyst. But yes, with the patient's consent I have experimented with it and interestingly I have found it to be helpful when diagnosing and uncovering a patient's obstacles; especially when the patient is cooperative."

I wanted to snort, and when the eyes of everyone moved from Edward to me, I realized that I had actually snorted out loud. I looked directly at Green-Eyes who was frowning at me.

"Oh, I wish I could get psychoanalyzed! Edward, can I have a session with you? I'll pay, of course!" Alice had drawn attention to herself and the doctor smiled faintly at her.

Jasper laughed. "Oh no, you don't wish that."

"Why not?" Alice asked a little sad now. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, because this shrink knows very well what he does and soon you'll know things about yourself that you never wanted to know in the first place," Jasper replied, a languid grin still playing in the right upper corner of his mouth.

"Jasper." Edward rolled his eyes but chuckled musically and at that point his eyes lit up and his whole demeanor changed into one that was more relaxed.

"Come on, bro. It's true! I once tried to be his experiment rat on whom he could try this crazy twenty questions game on, and after the session I swore I would never do it again. Damn, you scared the shit out of me with your assumptions."

Emmett and Rose laughed. Edward sighed, but he was smiling, too. "It's been years, Jazz. I probably had no idea what I was doing."

"Still, if I were you, beautiful Alice, I would think twice about putting your thoughts into his hands," Jasper said, his voice changing into a slow seductive southern drawl. That was strange; I didn't detect any sign of a southern accent in Edward's voice. Then, even though he leaned into her ear, we could still hear him. "Though, my hands are much more capable in other areas…"

Alice giggled, and I was once again tempted to roll my eyes at her childishness. The whole table chuckled.

"I bet you have some really crazy experiences with it, don't you?" Rosalie asked.

Jasper's grin widened wickedly. He winked at her. "You betcha."

Everyone laughed again, except for Rosalie who huffed. I think she was blushing. "I was asking Edward."

Edward shrugged. "It's not as exciting as it sounds. I don't practice it that much, since for most of the patients I treat, psychoanalysis is not recommended. But in a way, as Jasper said, you can certainly learn many things you have never previously known about yourself, and never fully realized."

I couldn't help myself, but snort again. "Oh, really, Dr. Cullen? Like most men want to fuck their own mothers and suffer from an Oedipus complex?"

It was the first time I had addressed him directly, and the way he looked at me was quizzical. "That's a quite prejudiced belief, don't you think, Miss Swan?"

"Do you know each other?" Alice asked when he used my surname.

I shrugged taking a shot of tequila. "We met at the hospital last week, didn't we? And to answer your question - I think psychoanalysis is bullshit."

His brows jumped up at my forwardness, but just when he opened his mouth to say something, I turned the glass, swallowed the disgusting liquor but never looked away from his eyes. He closed his mouth and the features of his face hardened. "Maybe you should educate yourself a bit more."

I chuckled dryly. "Yeah, sure. I think I know enough about the subject. But look at Alice," I motioned to her with my empty glass. "She seems interested."

"Bella," Rosalie said in a warning tone.

I turned to her. She was frowning, and Emmett was eyeing me with a hateful glare. He must hate me right now. "What? Can't I express my opinion about it? Does everyone around this table have to be so damn enthusiastic about Dr. Cullen's job?"

Alice touched my elbow again, and being all defensive, I shook off her hand. "Why don't you sit down? I know it's been a hard week for you. Just relax."

I rolled my eyes. Why did she need to rub it in everyone's face? "I'm fine, Alice," I snapped at her, but took a seat beside the doctor, because there was no room on her side of the box.

I felt Edward's eyes on me again, but I ignored his stare. Instead, I took another glass of tequila I had bought, and drank it, this time with salt and lime following.

"So, Jasper," Rose turned to him. "What is your job like back in New York? What do you do for the gallery?"

Oh, really? Couldn't we just leave the topic of what both of them did for a living?

Jasper didn't seem to be as passionate as his brother. He shrugged. "Basically, I am a curator. I am in charge of the collection, care and display of items in the gallery. But besides that, I am responsible for the international acquisition of artwork, I am looking for new artists whose artwork we can display, and visit different galleries all around the world to find them," Jasper explained. My chest constricted with longing and memories of my own painting aspirations, and while Dr. Psycho's occupation managed to anger me, Jasper's silenced me and made me feel small and insignificant. Again, I became that young girl who believed she could have her own studio one day, who believed in her dreams.

But now, I was here, drinking tequila, being reminded of what a failure I was – how I had betrayed myself and given up.

"Where did you study?" Alice asked.

"The Art Institute in Chicago," Jasper answered. "Art history and criticism."

"Cool," she nodded. Only now I realized that I was digging the nails of my right fingers into the back of my left fingers. I whimpered silently in pain. "That must have been great," Alice continued.

Jasper answered her, but I wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Bella, are you okay?"

I turned in the direction where that calm voice had come from and saw Edward watching me. "What?"

"Are you feeling okay?" he repeated softly, touching my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. There he was again, calm and attentive, his green eyes hypnotizing the shit out of me.

I snorted. "Yes, I'm fine. What is wrong with you all tonight? I am fine," I spoke sharply.

His touch as soft as the stroke of feathers disappeared in the snippet of a second, leaving me burned, and the features of his beautiful face turned to surprise, only to harden again. Without a word he turned away from me.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed the last shot of tequila that nobody seemed to be interested in, and as soon as the taste disappeared, I made my way to the dance floor. I needed to forget, I needed to get away from them. Away from Rosalie, Emmett, Alice. From Jasper and Edward.

Deep in the crowd it didn't take long before I found someone to dance with. The man was around my age, not too tall, but well-built, with huge biceps and short cropped hair. After the first two dances he took me to the bar, and while I was forgetting myself in alcohol, his large hands roamed all over my body. Having gone two months without sex and feeling the promise of the complete amnesia and numbness I needed, I encouraged him. The promise to abstain from sex and alcohol that I had made to myself was long forgotten by this point, but before I could take him home with me, I needed to tell the girls I was leaving.

"Hey, Matt, I need to… I need to tell my friends I'm leaving, 'kay? Just wait for me here, 'kay?" I ordered him inarticulately.

He smiled at me lazily, kissing my neck. "'kay, sugar."

I rolled my eyes and made my way back to the box. At first, I thought it was empty, but then I squeezed my eyes and saw that only Emmett and his super-doctor-buddy were sitting there. They spotted me as soon as I was in their view. "Hey!"

"Bella," Emmett greeted me, being as standoffish as usual.

"Hey," I repeated, looking around me. "Where… where are the others?"

"Rosie's in the restroom, and Jasper and Alice are dancing."

I nodded, drunkenly exaggerating the movement. "Riiight. Shame you don't have anyone to dance with, huh, doctor?" I looked at Edward whose brows narrowed in a scowl again. "Don't frown at me, I ain't gonna be the one," I sang my made-up tune and laughed. "I already found myself a partner, thank you very much."

And just as I said those words, two large arms wrapped around me from behind. "There you are, sugar."

"I told you to wait for me," I told the guy while he was eagerly pressing his body into mine. Looking back at the table I saw Emmett watching me despised, while Edward looked like he was... Whoa, he looked pissed off… Ridiculous man. No, I wasn't nice to him tonight, nor had I planned to be, but the look he was giving me now… Well, it wasn't nice.

"Anyway, as you can see, I'm going to teach Matt here a lesson or two, so just tell the girls I went home, 'kay?"

"No worries," Emmett said.

"Good. Have fun, Em and dance with Rose, will you?"

He nodded.

I turned to the doctor, and for the last time I looked into those green depths, to make sure I remembered them well. "Well, goodbye, Dr. Cullen." And then, remembering a bittersweet betrayal, I said: "Maybe next time you should bring your wife, you know… so you have someone to dance with. You don't look like someone who gets to have fun very often."

Edward inhaled deeply, and I wouldn't have thought that it was possible for him to grow even angrier, but he did. "Goodbye, Miss Swan."

I smiled wickedly at him, pleased at how uncomfortable he felt, even though I had no idea why.

We left the club in quite a rush and hailed a cab. Matt seemed to be just as impatient as me if not more because he kept groping me all the way to my apartment.

"Oh, sugar, I want to fuck your brains out," he whispered into my ear, once I closed the apartment door behind me.

"Whoa!" I squeaked when he pushed me angrily against said door, his tongue in my mouth now, while his hands were squeezing my butt.

My hands roamed his wide muscular shoulders, and I pushed him away a bit to catch my breath. "Don't worry, we'll get there," I said against his mouth that soon shut me up again. He was unusually strong and while it normally turned me on, I became a bit frightened. "Slow down, tiger," I smiled at him in between kisses. "Let's take this to the bedroom."

Luckily, he followed me, the bulge in his pants visible enough for me to see that he was not going to give up tonight. When we entered the room, he pinched me against the wall, and grabbed both of my wrists above my head, pinning them to the wall with his right hand. Oh, he was rough. I liked that. While his tongue was still exploring my mouth, his left hand massaged my breasts, sliding down until it palmed my burning sex. Oh, yes. Yes. Finally.

I growled into his mouth and he did so as well. After minutes of a violent make-out session against the wall, he took me close to the bed, pushing me backwards until I fell onto the mattress. He looked at me hungrily from above, as if I were his prey, his blue eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. For the first time since he had laid his hands on me in the club, I felt sober. The force with which he landed on me almost made me lose my breath. "So, you said you like it rough," he laughed. "Me too, sugar. I like it rough, too." And with that said, he reached for my blouse.

"Stop!"

He laughed again.

"Stop!"

The laugh didn't stop. He was tearing my blouse because he couldn't manage the buttons. He was way too impatient.

"Matt, stop!"

"Oh, I know what game we're playing. Don't worry, you'll never forget this one," he chuckled; now unclasping his pants.

I started to writhe underneath him, hoping he would finally understand that this was not a game. Not anymore.

I grabbed his wrists. "Matt, STOP!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?"

"Stop touching me! Just go, get off me! Go away!" I screamed now, panic setting in, and as soon as I managed to crawl out from underneath him, I left the bed and stood as far away as possible. I was still drunk, there was no doubt about that, but there was a soberness in one part of my mind, the one I had been suppressing for a long time, finding its way out.

"Are you crazy?! What's wrong with you?" he repeated, standing at the edge of the bed opposite me, his pants open, his face furious.

"Just go," I said to him, my voice shaking. "I changed my mind."

"Are you mad? This was not the deal!" he said and started towards me.

"Stay. Away. From. Me!"

"Come on, Sugar, what happened? I thought you liked it."

"I did, but I changed my mind. Now, go!" I said again, retreating backward while he was walking towards me.

"Oh, babe, you see this?" he motioned to his protruding erection. "This won't go away on its own, Sugar."

"GO AWAY!" I screamed, grabbing a lamp, and I was so freaked out that I was not afraid to use it. "Leave this apartment. NOW!"

He was watching me for what felt like five minutes, and then he shrugged, reaching down to his hips. My grip around the lamp tightened, but then I realized he was putting his penis back to his pants. "You lousy bitch. Next time you better know what you want," he snarled at me and turned to walk away. "Fucking whore."

The loud thud of the apartment door closing brought my consciousness into an alert state again, realizing myself and my surroundings fully again. I was standing in my bedroom, with the lamp in my hand, shaking and panting.

What had just happened? This wasn't only the question Matt had asked me. It was the question I was now asking myself. Wasn't sex what I had wanted? Didn't I want it rough? Wasn't this the thing I always did? Bringing a stranger home with me, so we could fuck? Meeting with men of a certain reputation so they could beat the shit out of me? Spank me, hurt me, and humiliate me? Wasn't this the thing I always wanted? Wasn't this the reason I loved James?

Could I even call it love?

Fucking whore.

I wasn't sure why it happened. Why tonight was turning into a nightmare, a living hell once again. The only thing I knew at this moment was that I felt ashamed; ashamed of myself and who I had become; a woman with no self-respect or integrity. A hypocrite who was teaching children to not be afraid and follow their dreams while I had given up on mine and let myself go out of fear of not being accepted for who I really was.

For the first time I felt shame for not standing up for myself when I could have. For not fighting for myself, for not fighting when the depression and anxiety had overcome me.

Fucking whore.

The sad thing was that now it was too late. I couldn't go back. I didn't have the strength to become myself anymore. I was lost and alone. I was ashamed and weak. I was a whore, a former lover of a married man… I was a nobody. How could I give up on myself so badly?

I put the lamp down, crawled onto the bed and cried for a long time curled into a little ball.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine," I repeated my tonight's mantra.

But the deeper I was falling, the more sense it made. I needed to die. I needed to go. Because this life wasn't making sense anymore.

I might not have wanted to kill myself ten years ago. But I sure as hell wanted to kill myself now. And I would. I knew I would. Soon.

Because I wasn't fine.

Because I wasn't okay.

That night he came again even though I didn't expect him to with all the cards on the table now. There wasn't a mystery anymore; I knew who he was, where he came from and who he loved. But despite that, he came again using night as his disguise, and he felt as surreal and illusory as the other times he had invaded my sleep, even more so when I realized it wasn't only his face or his odd green eyes that I saw. This time I felt his presence when his arms slipped around my torso, holding me. I couldn't make out his shape, I couldn't feel his flesh, but he was here again. And even if it was only for one night, I relaxed and sank deeper in my unconsciousness knowing he might not come tomorrow.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013 (five days later)

I hoped I wasn't late. Squeezing myself in between the closing elevator doors I squeaked bumping into someone.

"Oh! Excuse me! I apologize," I said absent-mindedly to a middle-aged woman who was eying me murderously. I checked the time and prayed they would consider allowing me to see Marcus today. It had been almost two weeks, and I didn't know anything about that boy. Not even that idiot Newton was allowed to give me any information. Fucker Aro. I mean… come on! I was his class-teacher. I had already cursed myself for not asking Dr. Green-Eyes on Friday night for an intel, maybe he knew something. But I was too concerned with my problems and with my unfortunate life to realize that – as much animosity as I was starting to feel towards him - Edward might have been informed about Marcus' condition.

"Kylie," I greeted an arrogant blonde with whom I had been dealing with for the past week. She was working at the reception desk on the floor where Marcus was hospitalized.

"Miss Swan," she smiled feignedly. "To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you here again?"

"I think at this point we can skip the pleasantries, don't you think?"

"Then I am afraid I can't help you. Again."

I was growing impatient and frantically desperate. "Tell me, is he still here? Has he been discharged? Please, just tell me if he's still in the hospital so I don't keep making a fool out of myself."

Her fake grin widened. "I'm sorry, Miss Swan."

"Look, Kylie," I smirked. "All I'm asking is one piece of inform-"

"Are you Miss Swan?"

I turned around to see where that thunderous voice came from. A nurse, a woman in her fifties was looking at me, her face expression unfathomable. She was a large woman, and I bet she made patients comply when they were running away from her syringe. I knew I would have. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe.

"Hmph," she huffed. "So, are you?"

I snapped back. "Oh, yes. Isabella Swan."

"About time. Come with me," she ordered in a thick authoritative voice, and I didn't think I had much of a choice but to follow her. I caught Kylie's eyes that were wide-open watching the nurse walking in front of me, and I could tell, she was pretty afraid of her herself.

The nurse led me down the corridor and we turned left and right a couple of times. Let me tell you, I felt like it was about to turn into a horror movie as we were passing fewer and fewer people.

"Excuse me," I piped. "Can I, please, know what-"

"Listen, young lady," she turned to me abruptly. "This could get all three of us into big trouble if you keep asking stupid questions. Just be quiet in there. You have fifteen minutes. I'll be waiting here." And with that said, she opened the door where we had stopped. I kept staring at it, still not quite sure what was happening.

"Go ahead! What are you waiting for?" the nurse almost barked at me. I entered the dimly lighted room in which in the middle was a bed surrounded by large monitoring computers, cables and tubes. And in the middle of that bed was laying a tiny lifeless body of a little boy.

"Marcus," I breathed, tears welling in my eyes. "Marcus!"

In a second, I was standing by his side, afraid to even touch him. He looked like he was sleeping, but his facial features were too expressionless for that. No, this boy was still in a coma. The constant beeping sound assured me that his heart beat in regular intervals and a ventilator tube in his mouth made sure he was breathing properly. His head was bandaged, as well as the majority of his body – his ribs, his left arm that was in a cast and I supposed his left leg, too, now hidden under the covers. I still remembered him lying in my arms in the middle of the road, covered in a pool of blood, and as much as I wanted to tell myself that seeing him now would make me feel better, I wasn't entirely sure. Even without any further information, I knew his injuries were pretty bad. I kept returning to the words Edward had told me the other day when we first met, about Marcus and his slow recovery. He managed to calm me down that time, but now the panic was rising in me again, though there wasn't any Dr. Green-Eyes who could calm me this time.

"Hey, Marcus," I tried to smile through my tears, reaching out to touch his little hand. "Hey, buddy, you alright? It's good to see you. Your dad was a bit of an ass about it, but I guess I don't have to explain that to you… I hope you feel better. I haven't been to school myself for the past week, only the last three days and… The kids miss you; especially Felix. He has no one to be naughty with, so he's quite bored. Even Jane has no one to bother anymore, seems like you are her favorite target. But we want you to be back in school as soon as possible, make sure you wake up and get strong again, okay?"

Suddenly, the beeping sound accelerated for a couple of seconds and a wave of terror washed over me thinking something had gone wrong. However, after a couple of seconds it returned to normal. "Whoa, calm down, baby. No pressure, if you don't want to return to school anytime soon. Why would you want to, right?" I smiled at him, my tears slowly drying up. "Take your time, just come back as healthy and as naughty as you like."

I kept staring at him for a couple of more minutes, and the time flew way too fast. Soon, the nurse that had let me in opened the door and I knew it was time to go. I squeezed Marcus' little hand. "Take care, buddy."

When I was outside, I wasn't ready to go home. Yes, I had seen him, but I needed more information. He had been in a coma for two weeks and as much as I wanted to believe Edward's words about him being okay, I was starting to doubt his judgement.

"Excuse me, Mrs., is the boy alright?" I asked the nurse.

"As alright as he can be," she responded cryptically, leading me back to the elevators.

"What does that mean? I need answers otherwise I am going to burst with worry. Why hasn't he woken up yet? What's his prognosis? And how do you know me? Why did you let me in? I mean… not that I am not thankful, but-"

"I told you, Miss Swan – no questions."

"At least, tell me, why did you let me in? This question doesn't concern Marcus' health. Please. I owe you a lot now."

We arrived into the vestibule, and I couldn't help but notice that Kylie was looking at us suspiciously from behind the reception desk.

The nurse turned to me. "As far as you are concerned, Miss Swan, you haven't seen the young boy, is that clear?" I knew what she meant, and I nodded. "And, with regard to your last question… well, let's say you should not thank me nor owe me, Miss Swan."

I frowned. "Who then?"

The nurse sighed, very reluctant to answer my question. "Please? What harm could it do? I won't tell anyone."

Finally, she sighed in defeat. "God knows I've told him this can backfire on us, that this is against the code of practice, but he won't listen to me. Now he owes me big time, that I can assure you."

"But who?"

"Well, who?!" she asked me in return. "Isn't that clear? The young Dr. Cullen came to me on Sunday evening, saying 'Can you do me a favor, nurse Finley?' and I have known this boy for a long time, Miss Swan. There is rarely someone who wouldn't do a favor for him, especially now that he is coming back home and will join us here in the hospital. So, I say 'Sure, Edward, anything you need.' And he grinned at me, you know, in this cheeky way like he does and asks me to let you see the little Volturi boy when you came the next time. And I say, 'Edward, but that Swan woman is not allowed to see him' but he keeps asking and smiling, and God knows how hard it is to say no to him. So, I say 'Okay, Edward, I will keep my eyes open for her, but if this ends up badly, you will be in a big trouble, because Aro Volturi is a powerful man and everyone knows that.'"

Who knew she was so… loquacious. "Sorry, did you say Dr. Cullen?"

"Are you deaf, girl?"

I shook my head. "It's just… we don't really know each other that well. It's surprising."

"He seemed to know you well. Goodbye, Miss Swan."

"Goodbye," I said mesmerized to her retreating figure, trying to answer the question of why the hell would Green-Eyes ask such a risky thing of the nurse Finley. No matter from what angle I looked at the situation, it didn't make any sense for him to help me, especially not after that Friday night, after I had been so rude to him. I didn't ask for his help, so why would he risk his own ass for me? All the way home, I kept thinking of that bizarre beautiful not-so-stranger-anymore who was slowly starting to get on my nerves and concluded that his occupation explained it all – as all shrinks, he was simply missing a wheel in his brain.

Though… I couldn't shake the feeling that Edward Cullen not only wasn't missing any but had more wheels than everyone else.

A/N So, let me know what you think, please. It keeps me going when I struggle, when I know that you are reading.

Next update next week.